


School-Yard Boys

by ac_123



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Gen, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-26
Updated: 2012-03-26
Packaged: 2017-11-02 13:33:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/369514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ac_123/pseuds/ac_123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Martin was a little boy, he didn't have many friends who would play with him during recess.  The one friend he did have has been lost to time--but Martin remembers him fondly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	School-Yard Boys

**Author's Note:**

> A fill for this prompt (http://cabinpres-fic.dreamwidth.org/3282.html?thread=3297234#cmt3297234) at the prompt meme. For those who pointed out the anachronisms--they have been changed. Enjoy!

I.  
  
Martin had learned that if you asked really, really nicely, the librarian with the mole on her chin and the glasses with the chain will let you take out books during lunch. It must’ve been a big secret, because he was the only kid who was allowed to do it.  
  
What he didn’t know was that his favorite corner of the playground could be seen from one of the windows in the library, and the librarian with the mole had felt her heart break when she watched him forlornly sit on the asphalt and play with broken pieces of chalk.  
  
II.  
  
Martin had tried playing football with the boys in his class, but the one time the ball hit him in the face and they all laughed as the lunch attendant took him to the nurse to care for his bleeding nose. The other time, they told him he could be the referee and proceeded to ignore him until the bell rang. After the third time, when they told him “No”, he stopped trying.  
  
III.  
  
It didn’t bother him, really, that no one played with him during lunch. It just gave him time to read more about aeroplanes.  
  
It did bother him, really, when the other boys in his class came over and smacked the books from his hands.  
  
“Why are you reading?”  
  
“Reading is for losers.”  
  
Martin’s fingers gripped the sides of his knees. “W-Well…I like it and—“  
  
“Then you’re a loser.” The biggest boy stuck his tongue out. “Loser, loser! Martin is a loser!”  
  
Martin’s protests of _No I’m NOT!_ were covered by the boys’ laughter.  
  
IV.  
  
Every day, Martin would take his lunch from his cubbyhole, visit the librarian for a book, and then go to his corner where he would eat his peanut-butter and jelly and read his book about aeroplanes. No one normally sat with him. No one even looked at him, unless it was to kick a football at him or come over and make fun of his book or to tweak his nose or flick his ear (normally as a part of an initiation into a club that Martin was never invited to join).  
  
This happened for three months before another boy, one with a big, round, happy, face, approached Martin and said, “Hello!”  
  
V.  
  
Martin’s first friend was younger than him. He didn’t have many friends either. Most of the kids thought he was stupid. A few even told him that to his face, which would fall a little bit every time.  
  
After they would leave, Martin would lean in and say, “I don’t think you’re stupid.”  
  
VI.  
  
His friend talked a lot. So much that Martin wouldn’t have time to read. And he talked about a lot of silly things: his doggy, his mummy, his daddy’s new plane.  
  
“Your Dad has a plane?” Martin asked, eyes nearly bugging out of his face.  
  
“Oh yes! And it’s _brilliant_!”  
  
“I…I love planes.”  
  
His friend nearly exploded with joy.  
  
“You have to see ours! It’s brilliant! Daddy and his friend know how to fly and he said he’ll take me and Mummy anywhere we want! I asked him if we could go to Helsinki.”  
  
“Helsinki?”  
  
“Yes. Isn’t that just the best name for a city ever? What could possibly go wrong in a city with a name like Helsinki?”  
  
VII.  
  
They were friends for the rest of the term. Then summer came. Summer went. They didn’t see each other over the summer breaks, which only made Martin that much more excited to go to school and see his friend again.  
  
Except he didn’t go to school anymore.  
  
VIII.  
  
“Miss Rumpole?”  
  
“Oh, hello Martin. I haven’t seen you in a long time. Where’s your friend?”  
  
“I don’t know. I’m looking for him. Have you seen him? He’s littler than me and he talks a lot and he smiles a lot.”  
  
“I haven’t seen your friend yet, Martin, but I’ll let you know if I ever see him.”  
  
“Thank you Miss Rumpole.”  
  
“I hope you find him.”  
  
Martin nodded and thanked the librarian again. A week later, he started asking for books again.  
  
IX.  
  
Martin’s friend never came back to that school.  
  
And life carried on as if he had never existed. The boys would come over and mock him. He would be hit in the head with the football. Girls will tell him they thought he was cute, and then quickly retract the confession and run away giggling. He read about planes. He decided to be a pilot.  
  
A part of Martin wondered if his friend had existed at all, or if he had imagined the boy. As the years passed and primary school became secondary school and secondary school became college and the faces of his bullies changed and the intensity of their mocking became more focused and more damaging, Martin forgot the name and the face of his lunch time friend. Decades later, his only recollection was that the boy had been very happy and a little stupid and that was what Martin had liked about him.  
  
X.  
  
So, decades later, when Martin asks Arthur, “Why on Earth Helsinki?” and Arthur replies, “Oh, I’ve always just wanted to go to Helsinki. It sounds really fun” and Martin asks, “What have you ever heard about Helsinki?” and Arthur replies, “Oh, nothing. It’s just the name. Helsinki!”, Martin is reminded of his playground friend and a comforting warmth settles on the top of his stomach.


End file.
